


True Confessions

by fewthistle



Series: Inventory [2]
Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-21 19:00:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/903741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fewthistle/pseuds/fewthistle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Doing Inventory (more fun if you read it first). A bit of sexy fluff. The title rather says it all. Again, two of two of what I originally envisioned as a series of these. Did not happen, but there are two-that's something anyway. Written in 2011.</p>
            </blockquote>





	True Confessions

“Good Lord, darling, what is taking so long? You’ve been standing in front of that shelf for decades. And why are we in charge of checking the inventory on the comic book section? I would have thought that this was most definitely Pete’s purview,” Helena asked, a look of bemused annoyance on her face as she surveyed the shelves containing capes and masks and magic superhero underpants.  
  
“Because I believe in being thorough. And because the last time Artie let Pete do the inventory in this section, he tried on Spiderman’s gloves,” Myka explained, shaking her head at her partner’s antics.  
  
“Darling, you know that I have absolutely no idea what a Spiderman is, aside, of course, from the visual created by the name itself, so you’re going to have to be a bit more detailed in your explanation than that,” Helena groused, leaning against one of the lower shelves, arms folded across her chest.   
  
“Right. Forgot about that for a minute,” Myka admitted with an apologetic grin. “Spiderman is this guy who was bitten by a radioactive spider and transformed into a superhero who can climb the sides of buildings and spin webs.”  
  
“How dreadfully unappealing,” Helena grimaced, her upper lip curling a bit in distaste. “Why on earth would anyone wish to read about an overgrown arachnid?”  
  
“Guys like it, for some reason,” Myka said with a shrug of her shoulders as she marked Captain America’s shield off the list. “They’re men. Do you need any other explanation?”  
  
Helena tilted her head and wrinkled her nose in agreement, an understanding smile on her lips. “No. That more than suffices. So, what exactly did Pete do with this Spiderthing’s gloves?”  
  
“Spiderman. The gloves shoot webs. Lots and lots and lots of webs. Everywhere. In places you wouldn’t think webs could go,” Myka answered cheekily, eyes twinkling with the memory. “It took us nearly four hours to dig Pete out from inside one enormous web and another two days to get the last of the webs brushed down and vacuumed up. So, Artie really prefers that Pete not check the inventory here. In fact, he’s banned from coming here at all. I’m not sure but I think Artie had Claudia rig up some kind of Pete-alarm.”  
  
Helena laughed, a full throated chuckle that sent lovely little goose bumps racing all along Myka’s skin. “I see,” she said, moving closer to Myka, a slightly predatory look on her face. “Are you scared of spiders, darling?”  
  
“Why, are you going to protect me?” Myka asked innocently, her back to Helena, a sly grin on her face. Her grin grew larger as Helena sidled up to her, one hand snaking out to trail along Myka’s arm.  
  
“Of course, my love. From spiders and snakes and all sorts of beasties and things that go bump in the night,” Helena promised, her voice that low honeyed drawl that could have coaxed Anita Bryant out of her panties.  
  
Myka waited until Helena was so close that she could feel the warmth emanating off her skin. Suddenly Myka moved, a flash of gold all Helena saw before she found herself trapped, a brilliant yellow lasso holding her in place.  
  
Helena gasped her surprise, her first instinct to try to wriggle free, but she found that she could not move her arms from where they were trapped at her sides. Myka grinned at her, a sly, teasing grin and Helena relaxed a bit, her lips turning up in an answering quirk.  
  
“Myka, my darling. What exactly are you doing with this…this rope? I thought that we had decided that any, ah, bondage, was to be consensual? Not that I’m not consenting, per se. I’m merely interested in the particulars of this little game,” Helena smirked, leaning casually back against a shelf as if there weren’t a lasso wrapped around her chest.  
  
“Oh, this isn’t a game. Well, it is, but not the kind you think,” Myka informed her, one finger tracing along the line of Helena’s collarbone where it showed in the gap of her shirt. “This is called true confessions. I ask. You tell.”  
  
Helena laughed, a deep, low rumble that started in the center of her chest. “My sweet, sweet love. Why in the world would I do that?”  
  
“Because this is Wonder Woman’s lasso and anyone it captures has to tell the truth, whether they want to or not,” Myka explained, eyes narrowing in speculation as she regarded her girlfriend.   
  
“But my darling, you needn’t resort to magic lassoes in order to get me to tell you something. You know that, to you, I am an open book. Why in the world would you feel it necessary to lure me into this little trap of yours, hmm? You know that I would tell you anything, answer any question,” Helena inquired, an honest look of confusion ghosting across her face.  
  
“Oh, no, you wouldn’t,” Myka countered, taking a step closer. “Last week I asked you three times what was in the box that I saw in the drawer of your bedside table and you pretended not to have any idea what I was talking about.”  
  
“Did I?” Helena asked, taking a deep breath and forcing the words from her lips, her face scrunched up with the effort. “I honestly don’t remember that, darling.”  
  
Myka reached out and cinched the lasso a little tighter across Helena’s chest, beginning to wonder about the efficacy of the artifact. “Yes, you did. And then when the box mysteriously disappeared, I asked you where it went, and you looked at me like I was crazy and asked me which box I was referring to.”  
  
“I’m certain I would have said, ‘to which box are you referring’, darling. You know I absolutely abhor ending a sentence in a preposition. Besides there is the little matter of what you were doing rummaging about in my drawers,” Helena countered, her voice showing the slightest strain as she wriggled against the yellow cord restraining her.   
  
“Helena, you can try to get around this all you want, but you’re going to tell me what is in that little blue box. It isn’t my birthday and Christmas is months away, so it can’t be either of those,” Myka explained patiently, a confident smirk on her lips. She bent her head and nuzzled along the elegant line of Helena’s throat, burying her face in the thick fall of dark hair and inhaling the scent of Helena’s perfume. “So, what is in the box?”  
  
Helena moaned softly as Myka’s lips found the spot just below her ear that generally served the same purpose as the lasso, rendering Helena a puppet willing to do and say whatever Myka desired. Generally. She did have a reserve of strength, one that she had called upon to gingerly side-step the issue of the box. The very same box that had put her in this predicament.  
  
“That would be the small, blue box from Tiffany’s to which you are referring?” Helena managed to ask, fighting the powers of the lasso as well as she was able. She wasn’t _not_ telling the truth, merely meandering around it a bit.  
  
“Yes, Helena, the blue box from Tiffany’s,” Myka affirmed, chuckling softly at her lover’s attempt to thwart the lasso. “What is in the blue box?”  
  
“Well, considering that Tiffany’s is primarily a jewelry store, I think I can safely say that it’s jewelry,” Helena said with some difficulty, the lasso sending a surge of power through her.  
  
“What kind of jewelry, Helena?” Myka demanded, her lips centimeters from Helena’s ear, her breath teasing Helena’s skin.  
  
“The kind one wears, of course,” Helena said through gritted teeth, the power of the lasso and the feel of Myka’s body pressed against her side, her breath tickling her ear making coherent thought, much less speech, nearly impossible.  
  
“Helena? You can’t fight the lasso forever. Eventually, you’ll have to tell me,” Myka said huskily, taking the softness of Helena’s earlobe between straight white teeth, smiling at the gasp her actions elicited. “What kind of jewelry?”  
  
“Bloody expensive jewelry,” Helena muttered, that answer causing her far less effort as she tilted her head to the side to allow Myka easier access as the younger woman began to lick and nip her way back down Helena’s neck. “Besides, darling, why do you want to ruin the surprise?”  
  
“I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t acted like I was hallucinating when I asked you the first time. Or the second time. Or even the third. After that, it became a little bit of a quest to see if I could get you to tell me,” Myka admitted, drawing back to meet Helena’s eyes with a cheeky grin. “And then when Artie asked me to catalog the comic book section, I knew I just had to try this thing out. Although, I think it has its weaknesses. Either that or you missed your calling and should have run for public office.”  
  
“If I promise to give you your gift when we get back to the house, will you take this infernal thing off me?” Helena asked, her gaze focused on the full lips hovering inches from her own.   
  
“And promise never to not tell me the truth again?” Myka countered, her expression more serious than it had been.  
  
“It isn’t as if I intentionally lied to you, darling. I was merely attempting to keep your gift a surprise, something which you have made rather difficult. I would never lie to you, Myka. Never,” Helena corrected, and looking into those dark eyes, Myka was convinced that even without the lasso she would have believed her completely.   
  
“When were you going to give me my present?” Myka asked a trifle contritely, her head canted coyly to the side, bottom lip caught between her front teeth.  
  
“Next Wednesday,’ Helena answered, wriggling a bit more to try and loosen the lasso. She glanced down at it before looking pointedly at Myka, who failed to take the not so subtle hint.   
  
“Why next Wednesday?” Myka asked, brows furrowed in confusion. She knew that she should take the lasso off, but there was something compelling about having the normally self-contained, supremely in control H.G. Wells under her power. Apparently, Wonder Woman had far more restraint than people gave her credit for, restraint that Myka was finding herself hard pressed to match.  
  
Helena sighed, her head falling back to rest, not very comfortably, against the shelf behind her. “Next Wednesday will mark a year since first we met. You were standing in my house in London pointing a gun at me, remember? Even then, there was something, some spark across the room, some recognition. It was if I knew you, as if we had shared a history, although I realized that was impossible. It’s one of the reasons I chose Tamalpais to reveal myself. I’d been following you and Pete for some time, but at the college, despite Claudia’s presence, you were alone and I knew I would have a better chance to talk to you, without Pete hovering protectively. And I wanted to talk to you. Wanted to be near you. I still do, all the time.”  
  
“Would you have told me that without the lasso?” Myka asked, what Claudia would have dubbed a “gignormously goofy grin” gracing her lovely features.  
  
“I suppose you’ll never really know, now, will you?” Helena replied calculatingly, a wicked gleam appearing for a moment in her dark eyes.  
  
Myka reached down and uncinched the lasso, loosening it enough so that it fell in a thin circle of gold around Helena’s feet. She replaced the rope with her arms, wrapping them securely around Helena’s slender waist and pulling the other woman tightly against her. Bending her head, Myka buried her face in the sloping curve of Helena’s neck, her lips tracing a slow line down to the tender flesh of her upper chest. Finally, she raised her head, meeting Helena’s slightly unfocused gaze.   
  
“You would have, wouldn’t you?” Myka asked again, already sure of the answer. A sweet tilt of Helena’s lips was her only response. “You bought me a present to celebrate the first time we met? You really love me, don’t you, Helena Wells?”  
  
“Let’s put it this way: you’re the only person in the world who I would allow to tie me up without my consent and not, at the very least, maim afterwards,” Helena replied blithely, the grin now grown noticeably teasing.   
  
“I’m sorry about that,” Myka told her, her nose scrunched up in that adorable manner that Helena found quite irresistible. “If it’ll make it any better, you can lasso me with it and ask me my deepest, darkest secrets.”  
  
Helena regarded her thoughtfully for a moment, lips pursed in contemplation. At length, she simply asked, “Do you love me?”  
  
“What? That’s your question? You haven’t even used the lasso,” Myka pointed out, caught in the intensity of Helena’s gaze.   
  
“Do you love me?” Helena asked slowly, clearly enunciating each syllable.   
  
“Of course, I love you. More than anything. More than Twizzlers, even.” Myka answered, smiling widely at her.  
  
“Then I don’t need the lasso, because that is all I ever need to know.” Helena slipped her hands into the thick curls at the nape of Myka’s neck. She drew her head down to her, capturing those full lips in a tender, lengthy kiss. “Well, that and where you keep the keys to your handcuffs. I’m going to need them later.”  
  
Fin


End file.
